“It’s plaguy lucky we have, seeing as how we’ve got so many thousands and thousands of acres to clear up,” said Tom, with a sort of confused notion, that the skill of his countrymen was a natural faculty not possessed by “furriners.”  “But, Judge,” he added, “I’m astonished at your cutting down the trees at this season of the year, and it kind o’ goes agin my conscience to sling into ’em.”

“I know what you mean.  You think they ought not to be cut when the sap is rising.  I suppose, the fire-wood is not so good?”

“Not half.  Turn the thing as you choose, and you’ll see you’re wrong.  In the first place, the wood ain’t nigh as good; then, you lose the growth the whole summer, and, lastly, you take away a fellow from business that’s more profitable.”

“How?” said the Judge.  “Do I not give you full wages?  Can you get higher wages elsewhere?”

“No fault to find with the pay,” answered Tom; “that’s good enough.  But, that ain’t the idee.  What I’m at is, that when I work, I like to see something useful come to pass.  Now, every time I strike a blow, it seems to go right to my heart; for, I says to myself, this ain’t no season for cutting wood.  The Judge don’t understand his own interest, and he’s only paying me for injuring him.”

Judge Bernard was too well-acquainted with the honest independence of Gladding to be offended at his uncomplimentary frankness.  Nor, indeed, looking at it from Tom’s point of view, could he avoid feeling a certain respect for that right-mindedness, which regarded not merely the personal remuneration to be received, but, also, the general benefit to be produced.  He laughed, therefore, as he replied—­

“You do not seem to set much value on my judgment, Gladding.  Perhaps, I have objects you do not see.”

“It ain’t to be expected,” said Tom, “and it ain’t rational to suppose, that a man, who, when he was young, spent his time travelling over all creation, and then when he come home, took to the law, should know much about these matters; though, I guess you know as much as most folks, who ain’t been brought up to ’em.  But, as you say, it’s likely you’ve got reasons of your own, as plenty as feathers in a bed, and I’ve been talking like most folks whose tongues is too long, like a darned fool.”

“You are too hard on yourself, now.  But, for your consolation, we will stop to-day with this piece of work, and you shall not be pained to cut down any more trees out of season.  The clearing is as large as I wish it, and we will see to the burning of the brush, when it is drier.  But, where is Mr. Armstrong?”

Armstrong, at the commencement of the conversation, had strayed away by himself, and sat down by one of the altar-like piles of wood, near the margin of the brook.  Here he leaned his head on his hand, and seemed lost in meditation.  He was in this posture when the exclamation was made by the Judge, who, on looking round, discovered the missing man, and immediately advanced toward him.  So deep was his abstraction, that it was not until his friend’s hand rested on his shoulder that he was aware of the other’s presence.  He arose, and the two retraced their steps together.  The sun, by this time, had sunk behind the horizon, and, as they passed, Gladding threw his axe on his shoulder and joined their company.